


Regret Regret

by caityjay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Feels, I originally envisioned this as mostly dialogue and it ended up the opposite, M/M, immediately follows the Battle of Hogwarts, only AU by one detail, so much left unsaid, tiny baby, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2752538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caityjay/pseuds/caityjay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tonks is dead. Remus has survived. He finds himself confiding in Molly Weasley as he's never been able to in anyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regret Regret

The predawn was quiet as Remus sat at the large rough-hewn kitchen table in the Burrow, nursing a cooling mug of tea. Molly, Fleur, and even Arthur had tried to get him to sleep, offering to take a turn with the baby, insisting there was no point in wearing himself out. Remus had argued that he hadn’t been sleeping well anyway, and that he’d be glad of their help come the full moon. Eventually they had given him space. He had concluded that it made the most logical sense to keep the newborn downstairs, as far as possible from the bedrooms, so that his wailing wouldn’t wake anyone more than was necessary. It had been a give and take with the Weasleys over the past few days; they’d ultimately convinced him to stay at their house with his son, but the threat of finding his own place had given him leverage enough in other places. Arthur had unearthed a crib from beneath the clutter in his garage and Molly had lined it with blankets and pushed it up against the sofa, sending Remus a glare that told him just how pleased she was with the arrangement.

Remus was glad, though. He cherished the solitude of the late nights, curled sleeplessly on the threadbare sofa, staring at the tiny, remarkable creature he’d had a hand in creating. He could feel the dawn approaching, even as Teddy marked the time with his waking to be fed, and would pull himself up and shuffle into the kitchen, putting a kettle on to boil the muggle way, as his mother had always done. He liked the wait, the sounds the water made as it heated slowly, ticking to a simmer, and removing it just as the kettle threatened to whistle.

He sat this morning, watching the night fade and the dew appear on the grass through the kitchen window, his back to the room where his son—his _son_ —slept peacefully, unbothered by the tragedies that had pervaded his first month of life. Remus lifted the mug to his lips as his stomach clenched, only to find that the tea had turned cold. He considered drawing out his wand to heat it, but decided he’d rather keep his hands firmly gripped on the mug.

The light, puffy clouds in the east were glowing a vibrant pink by the time he blinked himself out of his daze, turning to see Molly as she shuffled softly into the living room in much less vibrantly pink slippers and fluffy robe, peeking into the crib at Teddy before joining Remus in the kitchen. He turned his gaze to his tea as she sat across the table from him.

“ _Thermo_.” A wand tapped against his mug and steam began to curl from it gently. He noticed that his hands had become quite cold as the now hot tea began to warm them. He loosened his grip only slightly.

“Thank you,” Remus said, or tried to. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Molly.”

The second time he managed it more gracefully, and he realized that he meant it for much more than the heating of his tea.

Molly didn’t respond. Remus supposed he should feel lucky that she wasn’t berating him for not sleeping or trying to get him into a room with a proper bed. He supposed she’d finally given up on that particular battle.

He glanced up to find her contemplating the table beneath her hands, brushing somewhat meditatively at a knot in the wood with her fingers. Remus felt the knot tighten in his stomach again, reminded of her loss of her son, and in turn of everything else.

Everything else.

“I wasn’t in love with her.”

He’d spoken without thinking, barely registering he’d said the words aloud before he saw Molly’s hand still on the table’s surface. His stomach dropped out of the bottom of him, knots and all, sucking a great gasp of air into its place. “I mean,” he continued, his heart thumping hard as panic crept up on him. He didn’t dare look up; he couldn’t bear to see the shock or judgement on his gracious host and friend’s face. “I loved her. I just…”

A warm hand covered one of his where he still clutched his mug, startling him enough to glance up.

Remus was surprised at Molly’s expression. Where he’d expected scorn, he could only see sympathy, and perhaps a hint of pity.

“It’s all right,” she said, her voice quite as rough as his own. “I understand.”

As he held her gaze, Remus realized that she _did_ understand. He took another shuddering breath, trying and failing to keep the heat from rising in his cheeks.

“Remus,” she continued, shifting her hand to grip his wrist in what he was sure was meant to be a reassuring manner, “it’s _all right_ ,” she repeated. “You are a dear friend, surely you couldn’t think—”

She broke off, as though unsure of how to continue. Remus’s mind was simultaneously blank and racing, his focus drawn to the points of contact of her hand on his.

“I never wanted anyone to know,” he muttered, finding the words only as they tumbled past his lips. “When we were in school it was different, he—” he swallowed hard. “He didn’t need much convincing to keep quiet, then. But after… After.”

His mind stumbled and weaved through the memories of emotions he’d experienced throughout those twelve long years of pain, of betrayal, of devastating loss. The shock of overwhelming sudden and complete realization, of understanding; the past half of his life flipping itself upside-down at the sight of a name on the Marauder's Map.

Molly seemed convinced he’d pulled himself together, because she gently withdrew her hand. “I heard you arguing one night, at Grimmauld Place,” she said softly. Her cheeks were pink, and she appeared contrite as she inspected her fingernails. “I’ll admit I was a bit surprised at first, but then, it did make a certain amount of sense.”

Remus surprised both of them by snorting softly on a laugh. “Honestly, I don’t know how more of the Order didn’t have us figured out; we were making eyes at each other whenever we weren’t bickering like an old married couple.” His smile twisted into a grimace as he followed the trail of happier memories to one that had been occupying his thoughts often over the past few years.

“He said… Once, when we were arguing. He said that, once he was free, when his name was cleared, that I’d have to choose.” His throat closed and his nose burned between his eyes as he blinked them hard. _I’m sick of hiding, Moony_ , a ragged yet stubborn voice echoed in Remus’s head. _And once I’m out of this damned house, I’ll not be hiding anymore. So if you want to keep this up, that’ll just be a fact you have to live with._

“I would’ve chosen him,” he breathed, screwing his face up against tears he’d thought long since spent. He barely registered Molly’s movement until he sagged into her solid presence against his side. She held him as he sobbed silently, playing over and over in his mind each of his mistakes, how he might have changed things, how they could have made the best of their time together; how selfish he had been to give in to the comfort and stability of having someone to hold him when it had been offered so persistently and he had been left so desperately lonely.

The sun was shining through the treetops, setting the dew to glistening on the grass by the time Remus could breathe again. He smiled weakly as Molly offered him a conjured tissue.

“Thanks,” he managed, blowing his nose softly and attempting to clean up the mess he’d made of his face. She politely ignored him, and he returned the favor as he heard her snuffling quietly as well.

A soft gasp drifted to them from the living room, evolving into a tiny, hiccuping cry. The two adults looked at each other.

Molly laid a hand on his shoulder as Remus moved to stand. “Let me this time, dear,” she said. “Please.”

Remus nodded, relaxing minutely back into his seat and following the bright-haired woman out of the room with his eyes. He watched as she lifted Teddy from the crib, cooing and bouncing him gently in her arms. She brought the baby into the kitchen, shifting him up onto her shoulder expertly and extracting her wand to prepare a bottle.

“It is a wonder how you do that,” he muttered appreciatively. Molly smiled back at him.

“You’ll manage quick enough,” she said. “Only I’ve had quite a lot of practice.”

She slid back into the chair beside Remus once again, settling Teddy into the crook of her arm and letting him have the bottle which he immediately began to suck at with determination. He watched his son’s tiny mouth work at the nipple, his little cheeks bunched, dark grey eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. Those eyes flicked to him, and as Remus held the intent gaze of his child, he felt the knot in his stomach loosen just a bit.

“Thank you, Molly,” he said. “Thank you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> And so, with this fic, I have officially upped my number of Harry Potter fanworks from 0 to 1. *throws confetti* 
> 
> I'm still somewhat dissatisfied with the ending, but *shrug* Here's hoping no one is lactose intolerant, because that last line is hella cheesy. I welcome suggestions for helping with that.


End file.
